jenndoesnotcare replied to this post:
Every time LDS kids come to my neighborhood I am so so nice to them. I hope they remember the blue haired lady who was kind, when people try to convince them the outside world is bad and scary. (Also they are always so young! I want to feed them cookies and give them Diana Wynne Jones books or something)
Thank you! Honestly, this sort of kindness can go a really long way, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time.
LDS children and missionaries (and the majority of the latter are barely of age) are often the people who interact the most with non-Mormons on a daily basis, and thus are kind of the "face" of the Church to non-Mormons a lot of the time. As a result, they're frequently the ones who actually experience the brunt of antagonism towards the Church, which only reinforces the distrust they've already been taught to feel towards the rest of the world.
It's not that the Church doesn't deserve this antagonism, but a lot of people seem to take this enormous pride in showing up Mormon teenagers who have spent most of their lives under intense social pressure, instruction, expectation, and close observation from both their peers and from older authorities in the Church (it largely operates on seniority, so young unmarried people in particular tend to have very little power within its hierarchies). Being "owned" for clout by non-Mormons doesn't prove anything to most of them except that their leaders and parents are right and they can't trust people outside the Church.
The fact that the Church usually does provide a tightly-knit community, a distinct and familiar culture, and a well-developed infrastructure for supporting its members' needs as long as they do [xyz] means that there can be very concrete benefits to staying in the Church, staying closeted, whatever. So if, additionally, a Mormon kid has every reason to think that nobody outside the Church is going to extend compassion or kindness towards them, that the rest of the world really is as hostile and dangerous as they've been told, the stakes for leaving are all the higher, despite the costs of staying.
So people from "outside" who disrupt this narrative of a hostile, threatening world that cannot conceivably understand their experiences or perspectives can be really important. It's important for them to know that there are communities and reliable support systems outside the Church, that leaving the Church does not have to mean being a pariah in every context, that there are concrete resources outside the Church, that compassion and decency in ordinary day-to-day life is not the province of any particular religion or sect and can be found anywhere. This kind of information can be really important evidence for people to have when they are deciding how much they're willing to risk losing.
So yeah, all of this is to say that you're doing a good thing that may well provide a lifeline for very vulnerable people, even if you don't personally see results at the time.
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Satoru Gojo’s cursed abilities began to manifest at the age of two. By five he could read and write with ease, he could do basic arithmetic, and had better special reasoning than most adults. It was a given that his secondary traits would manifest early, and the clan was happy to welcome a dominant alpha to the family. Except—
He wasn’t.
The revelation that their messiah was an omega, frankly, appalled most of the Gojo Clan, but they wouldn’t deny their interest in a few incredibly powerful offspring.
By the time Satoru had truly and fully manifested at the age of fourteen, they had already thrown a few dozen alpha suitors his way — he had his pick of any of them, he could just drop out and raise children like a good omega. Except— he wouldn’t.
Satoru insisted on school, where it quickly became apparent that he would outclass even the strongest alphas. The clan was once again disgusted with him; the way he behaved, his strength and charisma, it simply wasn’t like an omega. He should be demure, and sweet, and happy to let everyone else order him around. Except he wasn’t.
He showed absolutely no signs of omega tendencies, except for infrequent heats, which were so mild he didn’t even need to take time off school. The clan had hopes that maybe that alpha boy he was always hanging around would get Satoru to settle down and mate, but no luck. When asked about this, Satoru said he found alphas “boring,” and would “rather drink bleach than fuck one.” The clan decided it would be best to wait a few years before broaching the topic of marriage again.
It wasn’t until his final year at Jujutsu High that Satoru showed any sign of libido at all. Lounging on the porch, ignoring his English tutor, staring out as the gardener tended to the koi pond. Then— Satoru bolted upright.
The tutor startled. “What? What is it?”
Satoru pointed. “Who is that?”
It took a second for the old man to spot who he was referring to. Someone else had joined the Gardner at the pond, peering down into the golden arc of fish. “The groundskeeper’s child.” A follow up question formed on his lips, “Why—“
Why are you interested when you’ve never shown an inkling of curiosity about anyone else in your entire life? But it died just as quick.
Satoru was staring at the gardener’s child with a look that could only be described as hungry. The shortened breath, dilated eyes, and flushed cheeks were unmistakable, although the unhinged grin he wore was a bit unusual (and unsettling). Nevermind whatever was going on below the belt.
“I want her,” Satoru said. Unshakable, bottomless lust— now that was just like an omega. Finally, he was experiencing a true heat, triggered by the presence of a potential mate.
Except—
“Gojo… that’s a beta.”
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The thing that was the most expensive in Bruce's life, that had cost him the most dearly was control. He needed it. Needed it worse than breathing- each exhale cutting sharper - needed it like it could pull apart the strands of a life. It was the cost of staring at Joe Chill's dead body. It was the cost of disappearing from Gotham overnight. It was the cost he had impressed most on his children.
What we feel in here- Bruce's heart was a bat trapped in a cage, shrieking and flashing wings, fast-paced -he touched a hand over his chest. What we feel in here, we don't take out into Gotham. We don't give it to other people. We don't hurt. If we hurt, we don't, we don't.
Selina was leaving. He'd asked her to go. He'd told her he didn't love her. Couldn't love her. Not the way she wanted. Not the way he wanted.
Another failed relationship, Bruce concluded. Something the children would come to their own conclusion when they saw that he'd left her crying alone in the drawing room. But for now, he'd shelter them as best he could from Bruce's latest pearl in a necklace of mistakes.
He wasn't exactly the picture of mental health; and deep pain came out heavy, blunted and wishing it had a gun to shoot out Joseph Chill's brains. That was the monster not allowed in Gotham. And it was not allowed in the Cave, and certainly not around his children.
Breathing too fast, shoulders rising and falling, Bruce locked himself in his room. And then because that would never keep them out, shouldered his wardrobe- a heavy, old, expensive thing -until it was in front of the door. He couldn't put the security shields down on the windows without signalling the cave, but he could lock and secure them with one of Tim's expanding bo staffs.
That might keep the kids from worrying.
Or at least from getting in.
Long enough for Bruce to suddenly, control ripping out between his teeth with a roar of grief, lunge for the nearest object- a mirror over the desk. He picked it up, ribs singing with sore pain, and threw it across his room.
Alone.
Alone. Alley.
There was no method to it. Nothing meticulous. Just taking apart the room piece by piece, snarling and sobbing and keening.
Alone. Blood. He'd done everything- done anything- except be honest. Admit to being broken- wood splinters jammed in the heel of his hand, and he snarled aloud. Taking only a moment to bite them out with his teeth, before resuming the brutish, unexamined punching of his own things.
Wanted to exhaust himself. Wanted to curl up in the wreckage, panting and coated in sweat, no longer needing control. Remembering how even just a week ago, he had been so frantically desperate not to be alone, he had offered his body up like an apology.
How saying the words had been beyond apology: what was he thinking. He didn't need authenticity, didn't need to be a person, didn't need to be- words like aromantic, words like asexual, words like I can't love anything, I can't have what my parents had, is this how I was made or what I was made?
Exhaustion didn't come, only destruction. Only Bruce Wayne throwing a violent tantrum after a break-up he should have seen coming. Only trying to break anything but someone else. Knuckles bleeding, but numb as a boy in blood, Bruce just- he gave up. Dropped down onto the floor of his room. Knelt in the wake of his own faults and dropped his head into his hands.
G-d he hated himself.
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Hear me out:
Kotoko adopted Es, and Fuuta went ballistic.
Rip Fuuta... he can never catch a break... Asdfsdf thank you for this, it was a blast thinking of all the ridiculous ways this could have played out! (One possibility I toyed with was Fuuta's competitive instincts take over, he fights her for Es, only to realize too late "*I* don't want to be responsible for a whole child WAIT") It's a similar format to the last one, with a knock-at-the-door reveal, but I still think it works 😂
“Don’t fuck with me, Es.”
“I would never.”
Lying brat. Fuuta knew they would every chance that they got. It was the reason he was so relieved that Es decided to find somewhere else to live after Milgram’s end. Fuuta had nothing left to fear from his former warden, but the others’ suggestions that Es become his new roommate still made him shudder. Three interrogations in a closed space with the rude kid were enough for him, thank you very much.
However, it wasn’t all a relief. He couldn’t help feeling concerned about who they’d gone to live with. Given how cryptic they were being, Fuuta would have been convinced they walked into the woods to find a furry family of Jackalopes or something to raise them –except, they showed up for this walk with clean clothing and internet access.
“I don’t believe you. You’re fucking with me right now. Why can’t you just tell me who it is?”
“It isn’t any of your concern. Hey, I thought you swore to stay out of others’ business. You turned over a new leaf and all that?”
“Tch. I meant other people’s business. You’re different.”
If Es had vanished off the grid like some of the other prisoners, Fuuta wouldn’t have cared. But they were here, near enough to arrange some lame meetup, which meant they were going to remain in his life for a while longer. And that meant, as the model citizen that Fuuta was, he felt responsible for ensuring they didn’t get themselves kidnapped by some creep.
He asked, “how much do you know about them, anyway? I mean, what kind of person can house a random weird kid on incredibly short notice? That’s definitely suspicious.”
Fuuta pulled the mask up on his face as they turned down a more crowded street. He knew people were going to gawk at his eye anyways, but it still helped him feel like he was blending in. With his thoughts on the injury for a moment, he was glad that bitch Kotoko was one of the prisoners who had gone off the grid. Good riddance.
“I promise, she’s fine. Not weird with children at all. In fact, she’s really good with them, which is why she could help me on such short notice.” They muttered, “but it’s not like I’m that young…”
“That’s still not normal. Is she some old housewife or something?”
“Ah, are you trying to do the interrogation this time? Actually, I’d say she’s around your age.”
“It’s just you two living alone? I’m still worried about Milgram coming looking for us again – can a girl like that really protect you?”
“Is everyone supposed to live with a big, strong man, like you?”
“Wha–!” Fuuta’s cheeks burned red. “That’s not what I –!”
“I’m only teasing. It’s cute that you care about me.”
That only agitated him more. “It’s not cute! I’m being realistic! One of us has to think about your safety while you’re just distracted by some pretty girl.”
“What makes you think she’s pretty?”
“Well, why else would you be so careless in deciding to live with her?”
All of the sudden, he saw it in Es’ eyes: that spark of mischief that Fuuta had come to loathe. He could never tell what they were plotting, but it was never a good sign.
Es held up their hands in mock surrender. They put on a ridiculous, overdramatic voice. “Ah, you caught me, Fuuta! I’m hiding her identity because she’s the most beautiful, capable woman in all of Japan, and I want to keep her all to myself!”
He groaned, but they weren’t deterred. “She’s got everything, I couldn’t risk you falling for her! She’s quite capable of defending me. She’s very strong, with protective instincts much like your own. She understands our situation like no one else could. She’s got intense eyes, and you wouldn’t believe her singing voice. She enjoys deep conversations, she’s a dog person, she –”
“ – now you’re being the creep! Just shut up, I get it already...”
When they finally had the decency to pull it together, they reassured him. “It’s all true, though. So there’s no need to worry about me. I’m in good hands.”
Good hands, his ass. In only a brief conversation, the caretaker had gone from sounding a little suspicious to sounding way too good to be true… meaning she was extremely suspicious.
“Maybe someday I’ll introduce you, if you’re lucky...”
He turned his eyes away. “At least let me run some background checks on her first.”
(He would just stalk her on social media, but that still counted.)
“You’re just going to stalk her on social media. That doesn’t count.”
“Eh? I have legit methods!” He hid deeper under his mask.
Even after the topic was dropped, after he and Es parted ways on an awkward goodbye, Fuuta was left thinking about this mystery woman. It took a bit of digging (and maybe a tiny bit of social media stalking) but at last he found where Es lived with this stranger. Contrary to what they may believe, he had turned over a new leaf. There would be no more hiding behind screens or letting others do the confrontation for him. Now that he was a changed person, he’d do the healthy and normal thing with this information: he’d march on down there himself and confront her like a man.
He made it all the way to the front door with his chin high. He knocked with confidence.
Then he began to shift nervously. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the woman’s description out of his head. Sure, he was here to check on Es, but if someone happened to check him out at the same time, it was only right to be prepared… He straightened his shirt collar. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered if he should have covered up his eye to look more presentable.
The door swung open.
The surprise on Kotoko’s face was nowhere near the amount on Fuuta’s.
“Oh, for fucks sake –!”
From somewhere behind her, Es’ laughter rang out.
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